Skull's Scars
by Halloween's Phantom
Summary: A revised story to 'Skull's Hidden Scars.' This one's better. Skull had many reasons for the way he is, each all based on his past.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Nothing~**  
><strong>Notes: This is purely fictional. I decided to re-do the other story I had wrote, and I think this will turn out better.<strong>

**Rating: T - M**  
><strong>Warning: Abuse, Violence, Blood, Angst, Language, Ooc, Etc.<strong>

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><p>Skull slumped onto the tree behind him, hissing as he agitated his wounds. He clutched his stomach as he dry heaved, hunching forward. He fucking knew he shouldn't have gone and done that last stunt. Now he was on the verge of passing out- he could tell- and there was a rushing in his ears. He leaned back after his stomach settled, hands limply falling to his lap.<p>

Damn, he was late to the meeting the other ex-Arcobaleno's were at. Oh well, it's not like they cared. Yeah...Not like they cared about the annoying, bratty, lackey who was only useful for fetching them things they needed.

He tilted his head to look elsewhere, eyes becoming unfocused. He let his mind roam, only for it to go into the past. s past he hadn't told anyone about and hadn't even thought about telling anyone. It was his burden to bare.

He knew he was brat and quite the crybaby, but he had his reasons, and each reason was based on his past. Everything was based on his past- from how he acted to reassure himself, to how he could absorb attacks. He honestly hated thinking about it, as it hurt so bad and only felt like needles stabbing his heart. Nope, no knife, because that would only be too quick of a weapon to use.

His childhood, up until he was seven, was about as happy as unicorns and rainbows. He'd been a normal child with happiness bubbling up inside his tiny child body. He loved his mother, who he got his looks from. Yes, all of his looks were natural. Right down to his purple eyes, marking, and hair. The marking he got from his proud father, the hair and eyes he got from his loving mother. Together, the trio were always together, despite his father's job.

His mother was an at home mom, who worked to keep him happy. She always got him what he wanted, whether it was a story to be read, or a piece of candy. Of course, he knew from the beginning that he couldn't take it for granted, and did everything he could to be a good child. Like listening when it was bath time, bedtime, or cleaning around the house, he did it with no hesitation. His determination was something amazing for someone his age.

His father worked as something he couldn't ever remember, but he was sure it was something in the underground. Even so, he never failed to come home at reasonable times, just to visit his wife and child. His father would always ruffle his purple spikes of hair and tell him how proud he was of his family. It was like a routine that he never failed to complete. Come home, kiss his wife, ruffle Skull's hair, and tell them how proud he was.

This routine was broken when his mother went shopping one evening. His father had suddenly stopped reading the story for Skull, shoving the book into his child's arms, and picking Skull up. He placed Skull in a well hidden cabinet, that allowed an easy accessible hole for which he could see everything that happens outside of the piece of furniture. The door was burst down, after he closed the cabinet's door and told him not to come out no matter what. The men that came into the door, he observed, were all wearing black and white suits. They held guns at his father, demanding something in another language. When his father denied having what they wanted, they shot him down.

Poor Skull hadn't taken his eyes from the scene, frozen. When his mother came home, he was still in the cabinet, and she had called the cops. It took two hours to find him, and when they did, they felt pity tug their hearts. Skull had his head in his hands, tears dripping through the cracks of his fingers, mumbling 'Dad' over and over. Snot slipped down his nose, but he would sniff it back up. His mother, in despair over losing her husband, hugged Skull so tightly, he felt as if he would die from lack of breathe. However, he didn't care, as his mother was comforting warmth. He knew from then on, the scene of bullets shooting through his father and his blood spraying the living room, would forever remain lodged in his brain.

Then, things had gone from bad to worse, as weeks later, his mother turned on him. She started yelling at him about how he should have taken the bullets instead of his father. How Skull should have protected his father. It was all Skull's fault. At first, he protested, but that resulted in a smack. It gradually escalated from small smacks and blaming words. It went from those, to bloody punishments and shouting insults. During those punishments, they left him incapable of moving. The minor punishments he used to receive had bounced off him, as if he were no longer affected. This only led to more frustration, and bigger punishments- later becoming the reason he could now absorb attacks, but every time he did, he would always be reminded of the cause for his ability.

This continued for a year, and during the time, he spent it on reading every book he could ever get his hands on. He never wanted to be in the house for too long of periods, since his mother would be back around the time he got out of school. He knew her routine by heart, by now. She went to her job, before he went to school, around the time he would wake himself up. She then came home by the time he got home from school. She would cook dinner for herself, then be off to bed, leaving cold leftovers for him. Every moment from when she was awake and home, he would spend at the library.

Soon, he found a mechanics book and was hooked. One day, he decided to go home with this book. He knew his mother would be there, but that was okay, as long as she didn't do anything. Her punishments were still pretty harsh, but they were starting to bounce off him again. When he got home, he was surprised at hearing shouting. The incident from a year ago was still fresh on his eight year old mind, and he now blamed himself for that, and therefore, when he heard shouts, he knew his mother was in trouble. A small part of him wanted to leave her to deal with it herself, but the bigger part of him made him grab the shotgun.

As soon as the large gun was in his hands, he ran to the kitchen. He got there just in time to tell some men that she didn't have their money yet, before she was shot down. He hated how she treated him, but he loved her, and for this to happen to him again was enough to send rage rippling down his spine. Angered, he fired the gun away. Never has he felt so accomplished, even after the ordeal was done.

As he sank to his knees, his ears picked up the sounds of sirens. Police barged in not a moment later, taking in the scene of his hands loosely around the gun. Skull was in shock at the moment, so he didn't respond to what anyone was saying. The day passed quickly with him only remembering a few things, like waking up in the hospital after wetting the bed from having a horrific nightmare. When he was released, he had told the whole story to the police when they asked and was later sent to an Orphanage, due to lack of relatives that could fit him in their families. If he even had any relatives.

During his stay in the Orphanage, he was observed by a few parents, but turned down because of what he looked like. Facial scars were terribly ugly, after all. When he was fifteen, still reading and acing mechanics, he had trudged down to the junkyard. He had been terribly bored that day, watching kids get adopted from the Orphanage, and him getting ignored. Soon, he created a much more lovable character from his stoic boring one. It was the Fake Skull. Fake Skull consisted of being whiny and crybaby-like, as opposed to his natural serious and detached self.

Down in the junkyard was where he spent a lot of his time, besides the library. Behind the Orphanage's Head's back, he trained in the junkyard, ranging from street fighting and repairing old vehicles. He was good at what he did. So, bored on that one day, he found that even repairing an old Volkswagen wasn't very fun. Until he came across a motorcycle. In his eyes, it was gorgeous. Aside from the scratches and broken parts, it was a fairly new model. It wasn't that year's model, but it was something that was sturdy and held beauty. He set to renewing the maximum beauty it can hold.

When he was finished with the model, it looked as if it hadn't been thrown into a dump. The scratches were gone, replaced with black and purple paints that he had made from old materials. With the broken parts replaced, the motorcycle was brand new. He made himself a key for the motorcycle, gaining more calluses on his hands. With the Motorcycle, he gained a confidence he hadn't felt in years and something in his heart clicked back open.

Teaching himself to ride wasn't very hard to do. Doing stunts was thrilling and dangerous. It made his blood pump with passion for the stunts he pulled. At sixteen, he found himself a license and was soon pulling stunts at parties and tournaments. He was in many crashes, that he survived, even without a helmet. He was soon called Immortal Skull, or Skull From Hell. Said to be hated by the death gods themselves.

One day, on his way from home, a car pulled in front of him, causing him to try and brake. He was thrown from his bike and had landed on the windshield of the car. An old man rushed from the car afterwards, along with his driver. The old man was scared that he had killed him, but was soon reassured that something so small would not kill him so easily. The man demanded that he be able to repay Skull for the damage, and from then on, the old man had soon become an important figure to him, always attending his stunts. He found the old man's name was Albano Nascimbene.

Concerned with Skull, Albano gave him the helmet he wears even now. And Skull still cherishes it.

Skull had learned awhile into their close grandfather-grandson relationship that Albano was the boss of a Mafia Famiglia named Carcassa. He hadn't minded. He even got to know Albano's guardians and became great friends with them. He was quite devastated when the guardians started dying off, but nothing could compare to the loss he felt when, at age seventeen, he experienced the loss of Albano.

Albano had been attending one of Skull's stunts, when he suffered a heart attack. The scene was featured on the wide screen, distracting Skull enough so he crashed. Even with his ribs fractured, legs cracked, wrist sprained, he managed to crawl to the dead body of who he had thought of as his grandfather. Not caring about his image, he cried on the body of Albano. It wasn't until he was pulled away by Albano's bodyguards, did he get an invitation to join the Carcassa. He instantly agreed.

With the death of Albano and the joining of Carcassa, he changed his look entirely. From loose and comfortable things, he switched to tight things and chains. He even got piercings, put on make up, and hid his scars underneath cool looking bandages. Along with the ear and lip piercing, came a habit of him messing with it when he is nervous or bored.

He took up training to get up higher in the ranks and soon became head of the Combat Forces in Carcassa. He would have been a candidate for boss, but he was Cloud Flame holder. They were looking for Sky Flame holders.

When he turned Nineteen, he was chosen to be an Arcobaleno. He went to the gathering, where the chosen seven were supposed to get along and mingle. It was secluded to only them, but that was preferred. Skull stayed behind in the corner, observing the mingling others, like a few others. He soon left, an hour into the party, and was the first to leave.

After meeting up with the chosen six, seeing them a second time, did he really get to know them and their names. Then, Checker Face gave them a pain they hadn't ever felt in their lives. Their bones cracking and shrinking. They had all fainted, but Skull had been unfazed, having experience a variety of pain in his life, a lot more than the others.

He regretted ever becoming an Arcobaleno. He couldn't feel the air running over his skin, like he usually felt when he rode his motorcycle. He was too small for his precious. The only good thing was receiving his partner, the Armored Octopus, which he named Oodako. He also soon realized the others were rude. Treating him like the weakest link. He could handle being called a lackey, but what he hated most was being considered too weak for the Mafia, like he couldn't handle pain. But they couldn't understand that he had probably felt a lot more than one should in their entire lifetime.

Before Skull could continue his thoughts, his shoulder was shaken with a desperation that surprised him. His unfocused eyes cleared of their haze and he found himself staring at Uni's eyes. They were teary and scared, but cleared up when he focused on her. His cheeks felt strangely wet themselves, and he reached a heavy arm to feel at them. He pulled his hand back, looking the salty liquid and realized that he was crying for real- something that almost never happened. The other times were played out for his Fake Skull character.

He lifted his head and croaked out, "What?" His voice was raspy from not being used. Uni cried out, clinging to him. Skull tensed up, remembering his mother briefly, heart beating faster. He remembered who was hugging him before he could hurt her, and relaxed a bit. He realized that this was one of the first time another had touched him without the attentions of hurting him in years.

"You were late and I was getting worried! You usually call when you're late and when I realized you hadn't called for half an hour, I sent out to search for you, along with the others," she motioned behind her and he saw Reborn, Colonello, Verde, Lal, and the rest. They each had annoyed stares, sending him further into guilt and depression.

He forced a chuckle that didn't even sound convincing, "I had a last stunt they wanted me to preform..." His eyes were falling shut from exhaustion and blood loss, voice getting softer. Tears that had trickled down his eyes were drying against his cheek and he had to remember what he was going to say. "I'm fine," he whispered, falling limp and hearing Uni cry out. Everything faded away and suddenly, he felt lighter than he had been moments ago.

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><p><strong>Should I leave it at this, or make a story out of this? Please do read and review.<strong>

**EDIT: I went over some of it and edited a few words that weren't supposed to be used that way. Let me know if you spot any more.**


	2. Author's Note! Nothing Bad

Dear Readers,

I know very much that you're expecting a chapter and getting this. I know it's very frustrating. However, I've hit a few huge bumps in my road. I have a lot of things on my To-do list. I've got both my Homestuck stories and my Katekyo Hitman Reborn to work on, not to mention the many more I am writing. I have been in the writing mood, so ideas are no problem. What is a problem is the fact that my family is going through a few huge things. Dealing with a divorce is very stressful on my dad and myself, along with my little sister. What my dad is doing is moving around a lot. It's a very complicated situation I could only _try _to explain. But when it comes down to it, we have moved, and I'm writing this in a Motel 6. I'm not gonna guarantee a house or a job for my dad, and I might have to move again. What goes down will go down. I will try to keep you posted but if I have no internet, I can't...Please understand my situation and please be patient. I'm working on stories. I just can't post them yet.

From,

Corbeau Raven


	3. Bad News?

**It is I, Corbeau the Fanfiction Writer, with some terrible news.**

It's been brought to my attention that stories are being taken down and it saddens me. A writer's first steps are reading. It's not writing that comes first. It's always been the reading. The writer's next step is then writing. I read many, many stories here on FF. It's what got me into writing the stories and stuff you've seen. Many of my fanfictions have been taken down by myself but the thought of someone else taking them down, without permission, kind of twists my stomach. This is our pride, as writers and readers! They're taking it away, aren't they?

What I'm trying to say(instead of ranting like an idiot), is that I feel really bad for every person who's written something on here, only to have their motivation broken, or had their story taken down. The frustrations of that is something I can understand. I've read a lot of stories and I love so many stories on here. Some have been deleted and some are still up, but remain un-updated. Some, are famous stories that were given doubts in the beginning, but became so popular later on. I remember the first chapters of some of them- in fact, I'm glad to say that I still read them.

This is to say, I won't be updating stories for a long while. I want all of this to blow over before I even begin again. To my loyal readers and reviewers, I do have a Skype if you want it, and we can discuss or just chat. I'm super proud to have reviewers and readers who love/loved my stories. I'm terribly sorry to everyone.


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